


A Nice Cup of Tea

by vjs2259



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-29
Updated: 2010-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjs2259/pseuds/vjs2259
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie takes a moment after the big battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nice Cup of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Femgenficathon prompt:  
> The triumph can't be had without the struggle. -- Wilma Rudolph (1940-1994), African-American Olympian athlete. First American woman to win three gold medals in track and field...and she won while running on a sprained ankle.

After it was all over, she went to the kitchen. It was still a mess, glass and shards of ceramic littered the floor. Annie stepped over the debris even though it couldn't affect her, reaching for a broom to sweep up. The act of tidying the room calmed her. Switching on the kettle, she sat at the table, patiently waiting for the water to boil. There was a lot to think about, and somehow tea still helped her thought processes.

 

"I'm hungry," Mitchell announced, barely concealing his exuberance as he came into the kitchen. Annie looked at him, a rush of affection submerging her free-floating anxiety. She pushed the cereal box towards him, and he snagged a bowl from the cupboard on his way to the table. He sat, poured a full bowl, and took the milk Annie offered him, slopping it over the crunchy flakes. She took the milk back, replacing it in the fridge, then put the cereal box away too.

 

While she was up, she turned the heat down on the kettle, and poured the boiling water over the bags already tucked inside the teapot. It was the light blue pot. She'd always liked that one. As the tea brewed, she tried a small experiment, gesturing at the lid with one finger, watching it hop up and down on the pot, releasing puffs of steam. Giggling, she poured out the tea into two cups, leaving two others ready for the others when they came down.

 

George was upstairs talking with Nina. Everything had changed for George's girlfriend. But then everything had changed for all of them. When that poor boy had shown up in her home, his throat torn, bloody, and loosely tied with a filthy bandage; something had snapped inside of her. Annie's long struggle to understand why she was still here had taken an unexpected turn. She'd been lurching from one explanation to another, but tonight everything she had experienced, from her own death forward, had crystallized in one moment of rage. Her fear and despair was overwhelmed by the need to protect her family, as well as the innocent dead and the still-suffering living. It had driven her to tap resources she hadn't known she had. Perhaps she didn't have them before. Perhaps the need, or the struggle, had brought them out.

 

Sitting back down across from Mitchell, she smiled at his joyful relief, obvious though overlaid with worry over George. They were safe. They were all safe. Tomorrow would bring new problems. But tonight, just for a moment, Annie wanted to savor their triumph.

 

Along with a nice cup of tea.


End file.
